“Just a moment, Miss Delaney.”
Skye halted, turned slowly with questioning brows.
“Just remember, Miss Delaney”—Lisa still maintained her smile, although it was strained—“I am Kyle’s wife. I’m aware you’ve had some type of a physical relationship with my husband, but for your own sake, don’t take it seriously. Kyle has had numerous affairs.” She lifted her hands in a parody of apology. “I’m still his wife. And I fully intend to remain so.”
“Your marital problems are between yourself and Kyle, Mrs. Jagger.” Skye’s tone was crisp, her words to the point, though she wished she could die inside.
She turned once more, desperately blinking away tears. She wanted nothing more than to get away; unfortunately, she walked right into Kyle. He caught her, his grip on her shoulders punishing.
“Dammit, Skye,” he hissed, the green of his eyes smoldering. “You will talk to me. I intend to see you—”
“No!” Skye protested, lowering her voice immediately and clenching her teeth to keep from wrenching away. “I will not be your mistress, a pleasant diversion you can use when it suits you until you’re no longer amused,” she hissed in a vehement whisper. “Let me go. Your wife is waiting for you.”
He removed his hands from her shoulders. “Skye,” he said with fierce control, “we will talk this out. I will see you alone. Tonight. We’ll have the entire thing out with both Lisa and Ted.”
He walked on past her, but Skye didn’t doubt his purpose for one moment. Despair and bewilderment assailed her viciously. She wanted him desperately, wanted to hear all that he had to say.
But now she knew Lisa. And she knew the words she had heard Michael Jagger say to Kyle were true. Lisa would destroy him. And Skye really didn’t even know just what it was Kyle felt for her.
She sought out Ted. She knew they weren’t scheduled to leave Igua until morning. That didn’t matter.
“I want to start home now,” she told him.
“Skye,” Ted murmured with surprise, “I don’t think we can leave tonight. The flights are all arranged for tomorrow morning.”
“I want to leave tonight! Please!” Skye insisted.
He looked very upset. The typical male with an unreasonable female on his hands close to tears he didn’t understand.
“I’ll try, Skye—”
“Go to Michael Jagger,” she told him. “He’ll arrange it.”
She had the strange feeling that Michael—of all people—understood everything she was feeling, understood why she so desperately wanted to get away.
Michael Jagger did understand. She, Ted, and Virginia were off Igua by seven P.M.
Interlude
“Where are you going?”
Kyle had almost reached the door when Lisa stopped him. The Jaggers had taken a large part of the hotel’s eighth floor, but every room opened to the spacious main parlor of the suite. Concern for his mother’s health had brought Kyle back to the suite after the press conference; she was a spritely sixty, but he worried about her heart and the strain caused her by his disappearance, then the joy created by his return.
But now she was sleeping. And he intended to accost Skye.
He paused and turned coolly back to Lisa. “Out, Lisa. To see Skye.”
A baby grand sat in the center of the pleasant parlor. Lisa ran her fingers in idle chords over the keys.
“She’s gone.”
“What?” He took several menacing steps toward her, his face a dark twist of anger. “So help me God, Lisa, if you’ve done anything
Lisa was bright enough to realize that she had pushed her husband one too many times in the past. He had never been physically violent, but he looked as if he might throttle her now. She unwittingly lifted her hands in self-defense and said quickly, “I haven’t done a thing. Your loving brother arranged a flight for her.” Lisa had been about to add, “and her party,” but the look on Kyle’s face precluded any further explanation on her part.
Kyle stopped dead in his tracks, jaw constricted with pain. Lisa watched as dark emotions rippled through his rugged bronze countenance; a shudder rent his body. He took one more step toward her and stopped, his voice in control when he spoke. “I want you out of here, Lisa. Now. I’ve tolerated your presence so far for the sake of your son and my mother. No more. The only communication I wish to have with you in the future will be through my attorney.”
He turned to leave. “I won’t give you a divorce, Kyle,” Lisa called, her voice rising shrilly.
Kyle turned again. He was still calm. “Why, Lisa?” he demanded quietly, “Why are you doing this to me?”
“I won’t let you marry that woman,” Lisa said, emotion again making her voice shrill although she had intended to sound disdainful. Silence followed her statement and she repeated it. “I won’t let you.”
Kyle took another pantherlike step toward her. “Are you jealous, Lisa?” he inquired, his voice deceptively soft. “You shouldn’t be— you’re still very beautiful. Free me, Lisa, and you’ll also be a very wealthy woman in your own right.”
Lisa made the mistake of misreading his tone. She slid from the piano bench and slipped her arms around his neck, pressing against him. “I’m not trying to be cruel, Kyle. It’s a mistake. You’ll quickly find her boring and be miserable. You’re back in the real world now. I want us to give it a go again, Kyle.”
He didn’t protest her embrace, but neither did he respond to it. He smiled ever so slightly and lifted a brow. “I see. You’re telling me that you love me.”
Lisa widened her eyes and pouted her lips prettily. “Of course, Kyle.” She brought a finger up to touch his lips. “Remember how good it could be, Kyle. It can be again. I’ll show you…” She pressed even closer to him, allowing a husky sexual tension to drift slowly away in the aftermath of her tone.
Kyle caught the hand that touched his lips, secured the one that clung around his neck, and very nicely but firmly placed them back by her sides and stepped away.
“I’m sorry, Lisa, but no, I don’t remember how good it was. Ever.”
“Kyle—give us a chance…”
“I gave us every chance in the world.” He sighed tiredly. “I accepted Chris; I forgave you all your lies. I spent at least five years being a model husband. It wasn’t enough for you, Lisa. You wanted to keep my name, but you also wanted everything else that walked in pants.”
“You’ve been sleeping with other women for years…”
“Yes, I have. I don’t deny that. But do you know what the sad thing is, Lisa? Neither of us ever cared. In fact, right now, I don’t believe you’d care if I continued sleeping with Skye. Just as long as you could still be Mrs. Kyle Jagger. Well, I don’t want to live like that anymore. I want to marry Skye. I want to be a faithful husband; I want a faithful wife.”
“She’s gone home with her lover!” Lisa spat. She had the pleasure of seeing him wince, of seeing every muscle within his dangerous frame tighten. Inwardly she shrinked, but her courage was bolstered by her knowledge of the man. He would never touch her now; he would be afraid of his own wrath.
“Perhaps,” he said finally. “But the future remains to be seen. And Lisa, I will divorce you.”
“You’ll be destroyed trying,” Lisa promised in a hiss.
“I’ll take that chance. And I’ll also give you fair warning. I’m going out. When I return, I want you gone. If you’re still here,” he added so pleasantly that she didn’t dare doubt him, “I’ll have you removed. Do you understand?”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He left the room in search of his brother.
It took him twenty minutes to find Michael, which was probably good. By the time he found his brother—Michael was sitting in the Lotus Lounge drinking a Scotch as if preparing for the confrontation he knew must come—Kyle’s temper had cooled. He knew that Michael had also decided Skye was a very special lady, that he had acted to save her from pain—and from whatever Lisa might have up her sleeve.
Kyl
e stared at his brother for a minute, then pulled out the chair opposite him. Michael warily returned his brother’s stare, then released a pent-up breath as Kyle sighed, lit a cigarette, and motioned to the cocktail waitress.
“Scotch, rocks, please.”
Michael drained his glass. “Make that two.”
“Two doubles,” Kyle corrected.
The cocktail waitress left. “Kyle,” Michael began, “I’m sorry. From the moment I saw her on the beach I knew she was different. She deserves—”
“Everything,” Kyle interrupted, waving a dismissing hand. “I’m not angry with you, Michael. I was, but I’m not.” His face twisted into a dark scowl as he added, “However, don’t ever mention how you saw her on the beach to me again. Come hell or high water, I’m going to marry her, and I’d just as soon my brother not keep reminding me he’s fully acquainted with his future sister-in-law’s anatomy.”
Kyle was serious; Michael had to laugh. “Hey!” he protested. “I'm only human.”
Kyle gave him a dry look but didn’t comment further. Their drinks arrived. Both brothers took good swallows. Then Kyle became all business.
“I want you to get hold of McVicar and McVicar. Tell them I want every possible loophole in a marriage explored, and that while they’re exploring, to get something started. I want out—no matter what it costs. Lisa can’t really touch Executive Charters—not the way it’s incorporated. Next, I want you to get hold of the O’Reilly people. I want to know every move Skye is making in New York. And I want someone out in Australia on this gold thing. I’m heading back out there myself until I hear from McVicar and—Michael, are you listening to me? What the hell is that grin for?”
“I don’t believe it. You’re actually going to have someone spying on Skye?”
“You don’t approve?”
Michael laughed. “I sure as hell do approve. You’re serious about all this, aren’t you?”
“What the hell did you think?”
“Nothing,” Michael said quickly. “Nothing. I’ll follow everything to a tee. And I’ll damned well be rooting for you.”
“Only one thing could stop me.”
“What’s that?”
“Skye,” Kyle said softly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
July 23, New York City
“I should have never let you go to Australia alone when Steven was dying. I kept telling myself that he had just taken a turn, that he would respond to treatment and pull through. I don’t think I ever believed it myself, but you didn’t push, Skye. And I was relieved. I was being selfish, and I knew it. My excuses were reasonable on the surface, but inside I knew I didn’t want to face tragedy with you. I always wanted things light, easy. I wanted to be with you when you were laughing…” Ted’s voice trailed away with a deep misery as he paced before the plate-glass windows that led to Skye’s terrace —hundreds of feet above the busy streets below.
Skye, curled into the corner of her plush white sofa, closed her eyes, her fingers nervously kneading a deep maroon throw pillow. Don’t do this to me, she silently pleaded. Please don’t bare your soul to me… now…
“Ted,” she said softly, awkwardly, “you didn’t do anything wrong. I really didn’t know that Steven was… was actually dying until I got there. And it was all over a year ago.” She had known this moment was coming, and she had dreaded it. Ted had murmured about a serious talk all the long journey home. And now they were home. He had left her alone in her apartment when she had murmured she was tired from jet lag. He had left her alone for two days.
She no longer needed time to acclimatize to her home.
She no longer needed time to sleep.
She no longer needed time to adjust to global changes…
Ted stopped his pacing and knelt on one knee before her, taking her hand into his. The sincerity in his dark eyes seemed to touch her, to fill her with pain. “I did everything wrong, Skye. You might not have known for a fact that Steven was dying, but I still think you knew the kind of crisis you were facing. You needed me, but you were too strong to say it and so I pretended not to understand it.” He stopped speaking with a rueful smile, but lifted a hand to shush her when she would have answered him. “I have to tell you everything, Skye. I was relieved when you said we needed time before marriage. I didn’t want the commitment, I didn’t want to be legally tied down. I liked things the way they were, easy, no responsibility.”
“Ted,” Skye was finally able to protest, “you’re apologizing and you have nothing to apologize for! You’ve always been wonderful to me. We’ve both always been happy with the way things were.”
He shook his head. “I was always first, Skye. Me and my stupid shows.” He kissed the palm of her hand, then slid beside her on the couch. “I want to change that, Skye. I want to marry you, I want to be with you through everything.”
He saw the tears start to form in her eyes and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. “Isn’t it something, Skye? When we think we’ve lost something, we realize how much that something means to us. You. When I heard your plane was lost, I wanted to die. I realized then that I loved you more than anything in life. Say that you’ll marry me, Skye…”
He kissed her forehead with gentle lips. Skye looked up into his eyes. Tears still hovered in hers, but they didn’t fall. They seemed to congeal, as did her body with a cold pain. She didn’t want to hurt him, oh, God, she didn’t want to hurt this wonderful man…
He lowered his lips then and kissed her, holding her tight. Skye felt the kiss touch her, and yet she felt it as if she were an onlooker. It was a fine kiss, a practiced kiss, one offered with the tender emotion of love. She could respond to it, she could easily murmur a yes to his proposal and fall completely into his embrace until his gentle ministrations stirred her. They could so easily make love, and it would be pleasant. But all the while she would be closing her eyes and imagining another touch, another man,
Skye drew away from him. Someday she would have to forget Kyle. She would have to learn to live and to love again. But it couldn’t be with Ted. He loved her, and she could only hurt him, cause him more pain.
“I can’t marry you, Ted,” she told him, wishing she could cry, wishing she could touch him and make him understand how much she did care about him…
He saw the tears in her eyes; he saw the pain. He stood, and stared at her as she stared straight ahead. He bit into a corner of his lip and walked back to the plate glass, staring sightlessly out into the dark night beyond.
He finally spoke. “I know you were sleeping with Jagger, Skye.”
Skye was jolted. Her eyes sped to his back as he stood facing the window. He had spoken so quietly, but with such certainty. Her problem of how to tell him was solved.
For a brief second she wondered with bitterness how everyone seemed to know. To Michael Jagger, of course, it had been obvious. But Lisa… and now Ted? It was as if she wore a placard on her chest. I was sleeping with Kyle Jagger.
Or had she really changed? Did something in her eyes, in her manner, decree that she had fallen under the spell of a man who was a walking embodiment of a power anyone could sense, anyone could feel?
She didn’t say anything. What could she say?
Ted kept staring out the window. After a moment he started speaking again; he hadn’t expected an answer.
“I understand it, Skye, at least I think I understand it. You were alone. Jagger is certainly a fit specimen, and I don’t mean that as bitterly as it sounds. He seems to be a decent person. Very decent. I suppose I even have to be grateful, and I am. He kept you alive, he kept you well.”
Skye heard the soft whistle of his sigh, saw a hunch, then a straightening to his shoulders. “I know you slept with him, Skye. I understand it, I accept it. I also hate it. I can’t help it, but I don’t ever want to hear about it.” He finally turned to look at her and she realized from the naked expression in his dark eyes that he was pleading.
If I could only undo this, she thought,
if I could only go back in time. I could have been everything he wanted.
She swallowed, dug her nails into her palms, bit the soft inner skin of her lips. Her words came in a rush anyway; her tears fell. “Oh, God, I am so sorry. So very, very sorry. I can’t marry you.”
“Skye,” he began, moving swiftly toward her.
Skye stretched out her hands, palms outward. “Don’t, Ted, please don’t.—” She struggled for something to say and then blurted out, "I’m pregnant.”
His first expression was that of a man who had been hit with a brick he had seen coming but had stupidly stared at it. But then he collected himself quickly, and came to her despite her protests.
“I don’t care, Skye. I love you, I'll love your child.”
She cried then as she had never cried in her life. Great heaving jobs that racked her tiny frame. He tried to hold her, he tried to soothe her; it all only made her worse, and all she could finally manage to say was, “I still can’t marry you, Ted.”
He held her in a soft quiet. After a while he murmured, “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Ted,” Skye garbled, “you are wonderful, you’re everything anyone could want—thoughtful, kind, warm, gentle, good.”
“But you’re not in love with me.”
“I do love you—”
“Hush. I believe you, I know that. But you’re not in love with me. Please, Skye, don’t look like that. It’s my own fault. I had four years. Jagger only had six weeks. If I’d had any sense, I would have married you four years ago. I would have been with you.”
They were both quiet, staring out the glass into the night. He still held her, a gentle grip, one of comfort.
“I’ll still marry you, Skye, if you wish, if you want the child to have a father.” He hesitated only a second. “Jagger is married.”
“I know,” Skye said softly. “And thank you, but no.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know yet. Go back to work for a while,” she told him with a rueful smile. “Then maybe I’ll go out and stay with Virginia for a while. Long enough for the public to forget me.”
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